Downtime
by Jimli
Summary: Dante doesn't get to save the world everyday, but boredom can be a vicious demon, too. The real question? How to kill it.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** Something that occurred to me that I thought was pretty funny. Most likely this is a one-shot drabble, but I know from one-shots worlds grow too..._

_No warnings except some mild violence._

**Disclaimer: **_While I am at the moment _extremely_ broke, it is not, unfortunately, because I spent my savings on the rights to Devil May Cry. :(_

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**Downtime**

Lady heard the music before she walked in - she always could. It was one of Dante's favorite songs, one he had played so often even she knew the words. She mused that Dante must have had that jukebox of his fixed, though, because the sound was a lot clearer than usual.

When she walked in prepared to demand he take the job she had for him, her prepared speech and potential snarky comebacks left her mind.

The music was being played by a handful of shadowy versions of the devil hunter instead of blaring from his jukebox. She recognized Dante's instruments, of course. She had never been sure whether he could actually play them or just liked keeping them, but she knew how Doppelganger style worked; those shadows could only do what Dante himself could. One shadow was even triggered to sing the rougher vocal parts of the song.

She shook herself, then glanced at his desk finding the devil hunter lounging in his usual position, feet up on the antique desk, face hidden under a magazine.

"What in the hell is going on?" Lady demanded.

"Felt like a little music," came the drawling reply.

He hadn't even bothered lifting the magazine first.

"Your jukebox just not good enough now? You need live music to nap by?"

"Nope," he answered, finally shifting the edge of the magazine a little. "Jukebox is broken."

Lady whipped her attention to the object in question, only to find a boot print caving in the front of the machine.

She snapped back to Dante, but he had replaced the magazine. She shot him just to relieve her feelings, then proceeded to tell him about the job he was going to do for her before stalking out of the office.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **So here is another little drabble. Yes, it's Dante's first-person POV, yes I realize that the first chapter was third-person. I guess anything goes here in 'Downtime'. Please enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: **_I have the rights, I swear! I spent a fortune acquiring them! Unfortunately, they seem to be lost...er, just misplaced! I **knew** I should have filed all these freaking papers instead of posting today!_

_Jimli_

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I'm beginning to think I have terrible luck with women. Seems like every time I go on a date, something weird happens, the girl freaks out, and there goes the evening. Apparently most chicks can't handle the occasional demon attack, which makes dealing with my job complicated from the start. Meeting girls in bars never pans out very well, either. For some reason, a guy sitting alone drinking, with a pair of guns in his coat doesn't _attract_ women, he _repels_ them. Those that do come over are usually looking to stir up jealousy in their partner.

Most of the girls in strip joints and brothels won't have anything to do with me. I've got a reputation for being nothing but trouble, and I can't pay the extra fees they ask for the risk.

I can't meet a decent girl at work, like some guys do. One girl I met on the job seemed too young, then she tried to eat me. Luckily she started at the throat instead of the place I thought she was going for at first. Another is pretty and skilled, but she's money-grubbing and has a fondness for shooting me, especially in the head. Just because it's not fatal doesn't mean it's enjoyable. I met another beautiful babe, powerful, talented, even a devil, so she has no problem with my nature. Unfortunately, she is a dead ringer for my dead mother. I told a third to come back when she was ten years older. She turned me down straight away because I was too old anyway; she liked younger guys. The only other girl I've met in recent times is very nice, but she's too young, too sweet, and already engaged to the kid.

I guess it all really started going downhill for me when the mop turned me down. Yeah, I was drunk, but it was a very pretty mop, quiet, didn't say anything when I lost my temper at my then-agent, nor when I damaged the jukebox.

I don't want to swear off the idea though. It took my father two thousand years to find a decent woman after all. On the other hand, if a guy has to wait that long, maybe that should say something.

Terrible luck with women.


	3. Chapter 3

'Free pool lessons', the sign said. Dante watched the guy behind it assure some pretty college girl he meant it, and indeed show the girl some pool.

They played a game, and though the girl lost, she was only beaten by a margin.

The guy seemed impressed and asked if she were up for another round with her new skill set. She cheerfully agreed.

Dante watched with interest as the girl beat the guy soundly, despite her somewhat clumsy shots.

When the instructor offered to place a wager on another round, Dante knew what his game really was.

Predictably, the girl lost, but it was so close that she wanted a rematch.

She lost all her money in three more games, always by a thin margin. She left the bar disappointed and hurt, but not angry.

Dante grunted to himself. She didn't even realize she'd been hustled. He left the bar as well, nonchalantly following the girl until he figured out where she lived. Making his way back to the bar, he saw a new face, a cocky man nearly twice his own age getting a similar routine, more tailored for his tougher attitude.

He, too, lost everything, and though he was pissed, he hadn't caught on to the scam any more than the college girl had.

After a few more drinks, Dante made his way home.

He came back infrequently, never often enough to be conspicuous, but enough to learn what he wanted to know.

One night, he burst into the bar, oozing attitude and swagger.

"You really mean that, friend? You can teach me pool?" he asked, a slightly dubious tone in his voice.

The guy finished his beer. "Sure can. I'll even give you lessons for free."

"I'm always up for a free ride," Dante grinned. The guy picked out a cue from the rack, eyeing it carefully. Dante went to the rack, imitating the guy's movements.

Behind him, the guy grinned himself, seeing this punk trying to look so cool, mimicking him. "Too easy," he murmured to himself.

His face turned away from the hustler, Dante agreed. It was all too easy.

He played monkey-see, monkey-do, clumsily imitating everything the guy showed him. He went over basic pool rules, and showed Dante correct techniques. There wasn't anything underhanded about what he taught. If there had been, the other patrons or bartender might have intervened. No, he merely low-balled his own talent, and appealed to whatever motivated the student, making sure the next round was his or her decision.

Dante could admire that, in a way. Still, it didn't seem right taking advantage of the hapless students. Defeating a weaker opponent was one thing, toying with someone for your own advantage was something else.

When Dante won the first game, as planned by both sides, he took the man up on his offer of a wager.

He made an incredible shot look accidental, and the guy lost. Confusion played across his opponent's face for a moment, then Dante was challenged to another round. Playing up his cockiness, he agreed, upping the stakes from the previous game. The man heartily agreed, and the trap was set.

Dante barely lost the game.

"No! I want to play again!" he snapped at the hustler.

He played it cool. "I don't know, you seem to getting really worked up about this," he hedged.

Dante forced an easy grin. "Sorry, man, how about once more? All or nothing." He pulled a wad of cash out of his coat, and watched greed win over his opponent."

"Sure thing, kid," the guy replied, pulling out everything he'd won from him so far.

Dante frowned. "That's just what I lost."

The man shrugged. "Yeah?"

"You trying to tell me you didn't have enough to cover the bet we made?" A dangerous note hung in his voice, just enough to make the man reconsider the size of his pool partner.

He hastily emptied his pockets. "No, no, of course not. I just forgot about this for a minute there."

Dante held the man's gaze for a moment, then grinned easily. "Yeah, sure. Who goes first?"

"Why go first?" the hustler suggested amicably.

Dante broke and proceeded to clear the table, one clean, deliberate shot after another until he'd sunk the very last ball. He grabbed the money, shoving it into his coat pockets. Realization dawned on the man, and he swung his cue at Dante's back. He caught it, stopping the force of the blow casually before turning to eye the man coldly.

"Not very sporting," Dante drawled.

"You cheated me!"

"How many have you cheated the same way?"

He swung the pool cue again, and Dante sliced his hand to meet the blow, snapping the cue.

Wide-eyed, the man took a step back before stumbling his way past the table and out the door.

Dante felt the stares and apprehension from the rest of the bar as he stepped outside. He casually made his way towards the college girl's apartment, leaving part of the bundle in her mailbox before taking the rest back to Enzo. He hoped that the extra cash in the pile would go towards his debt before being liquidated into Enzo's various vices, but there wasn't really any way to know with him.

Maybe it would at least motivate the fat man into getting Dante a good demon-related contract.

Or maybe he'd just spend the next few nights trying to find a new bar to pass his time in.


End file.
